She’s off the rails, again. Losing herself, losing grip. Falling somewhere between losing the purpose, and well just being really sick of this perpetual dejavu. She doesnt find it funny anymore - her running in circles, going on and on in the same path with no definite direction. She feels hollow inside. Void. Empty. Like everyday of her life is preset into the same meaningless routine that she has to keep up with just to stay in this game of life. Yet the sickest part of it is, she never gets to win.. and everyone else gets to leave her behind and move forward with luck. She’s been told that people make their own fate. She laughs it off and finds it absurd ; apparently it doesnt apply to her because right now it seems like no matter how much trying and pleasing she does, she’s always being lead back into this familiar and annoyingly sick process of losing.. everything, everyone.. and ironically by no other than fate itself. No one told her that fate has this funny way of playing with people - leads us all around to let us find out at the end of the day that we’re stuck at square one. Sickening, she thought. She wants to cry everything out, but with no one left to listen to her misery, everything would just have to be left at the pit of her stomach and be taken care of later when everything blows over. Right now, she would just have to find satisfaction at being the pathetic, emo, bore and a half, saddist and masochist of all time. Because what else can she do but wallow.. in misery, in failure, and in loneliness. But then again, she’d still sport a strong facade and paste a wide smile on her face, so that no one will ever have to ask why, and maybe - just maybe, she could atleast grab a consolation prize at this game.

Damn. This is a sick, sad story, I almost want to cry.